Hizballin'

In the last few weeks I've moved to a new flat (I have an oven!), visited Syria during times of unrest (I'm going back next week, everyone hold on to your hats please), taken an extremely awesome walking tour of Beirut, discovered cheap delicious cheeseburgers sold steps from the front of my building, and bought tickets back to the US. (19 July - 3 August, everyone!)

But I am not going to write about those things today, because they all pale in comparison to the place I have just visited: the Hizbollah Museum. Otherwise known as the Tourist Landmark of the Resistance, otherwise known as a theme park for martyrdom. Otherwise known as awesome.

Hizbollah Museum!

Hizbollah opened up a museum in May 2010 (exactly ten years after the withdrawal of Israel from southern Lebanon) commemorating its victory over the Zionist entity. Though the museum is dedicated to the entire history of the Resistance (aka, Hizbollah), the location was chosen in Mleeta because that mountaintop served as the central headquarters for Hizbollah during the years of Resistance, between 1982 and 2000. It's also commemorating the July 2006 war. Hizbollah claims victory in this war because Israel didn't win (an important technicality, by which they mean that Israel failed to achieve its objective of wiping out Hizbollah), and victories are meant to be celebrated with expensive memorials. And so, the Resistance Museum was born.

Map. Much to our disappointment, the Gift Shop was closed.

Haley and I set out on our adventure this morning with little more than city names to guide us. "Take the bus to Seida, then get another bus to Nebatia, and from there you can probably get as service [shared taxi] to Mleeta," our friend told us. Being both experienced in Middle Eastern travel, we got on buses, looked confused, and asked people a lot of questions. A snag occurred when we discovered that services didn't run the Mleeta route regularly, so we had to pay $20 for a round trip taxi ride, with the driver waiting at the top. A minor snag, all things considered.

We arrived at the top of the mountain completed shrouded in fog. Leaving our driver to amuse himself for two hours, we paid our 2000 LL ($1.33) ticket. Not really being able to see anything, much less know what to do first, we wandered around looking dumb until a tour guide took pity us on, supplied us with a brochure, and introduced us to the Abyss

Everything in the museum was extremely well labeled in English and Arabic, which tells you a lot about who their target audience is.

The Abyss, we were told, is a symbolic representation of the ultimate defeat of the Zionist enemy. It contains tanks and other weapons captured from the Israeli Army in 2006, and from the South Lebanon Army, the Lebanese militia that controlled southern Lebanon (with Israeli support) for close to 18 years.

The Abyss, in fog

The Abyss a couple of hours later, when the fog had cleared.

In the center is a square graveyard marked with a headstone carved with the Star of David. The three big Hebrew letters on the grave read "SLA" for the Southern Lebanese Army. The words on the side, also in Hebrew read "Abyss" and...a word I forget. (Damn.) Fallen Hebrew words also appeared in between broken shells and destroyed tanks. On the wall in orange is an eagle, symbolizing the ever-watching presence of the Resistance against Israel. It also features the signature of a senior Hizbollah member, Imad Mughniyah, who was assassinated in Damascus in 2008.

An Israeli tank caught in a spiderweb, proving Hassan Nasrallah right.

The pathway, as you might be able to see from the map (#10), goes in a circle above the Abyss. This, we were told, symbolizes a tornado and represents the might of Hizbollah, that caught up the Israeli army and destroyed it. (Compare the fatalities on both sides of the 2006 war, and then form your own opinions of the validity of that statement.) The above picture embodies a statement made by Hizbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah, who once said that the Israeli Army is weaker than a spider's web.

A figure fashioned from seized Israeli weaponry meant to symbolize the Israeli Ambassador, who--unlike a normal Ambassador who serves as a means of communication between two countries--is always a harbinger of death and destruction.

After a quick tour of what we could see of the Abyss in the fog, we watched a short video introducing us to Mleeta. Habibna Hassan Nasrallah welcomed us to the museum and proclaimed the might of Hizbollah over the defeated Zionist enemy. We then learned about the glorious history of the Resistance, dating back to the Israeli invasion of Lebanon in 1982 (to wipe out the Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO)), its subsequent occupation and ultimate withdrawal in 2000. We were told about the heroic efforts of the soldiers in the prime of their youth, who dug tunnels through the hills of Mleeta and held out against the advanced Israeli weapons. There was also some pretty impressive 3-D animation of the museum itself.

Then, we visited the main exhibition hall, filled with captured Israeli weapons and equipment, and detailed information about Israeli's military.

Israeli boots, missiles, stretches, and snowshoes (?), artfully displayed

This claims that between 1982 and 2006, there has been a 1:1 ratio between Resistance martyrs and Israeli fatalities [sic]. It also asserts that from 2006 onward, we are still waiting to see what the ratio will be. (See again link about Israeli fatalities in 2006.)

In a thumbing-our-nose move, one display showed a map of Israel and the latitude-longitude locations of all the major Israeli cities. Another showed all the fighter jets used in the 2006 war, down to plane number, type, and emblem.

This table lists the entire Israeli army, the location of each division, and the name of the person in charge. (Seriously.) I've heard that it's regularly updated.

After the Exhibition Hall, we set out on the Path.

Yup.

The Path was a beautiful (seriously!) recreation/preservation of the operating center of Mleeta.

Entering The Path.

Rocket launchers.

Motorcycles, aka "Reinforcements."

See? It's beautiful!

A flower sculpture made from Israeli weapons. Say what you like about Hizbollah, that's still pretty awesome.

After The Path came The Cave.

You thought I was being pedantic.

The Cave is a long stretch of tunnels carved into the mountain over the course of three years. This sign claims that by the end, over 7000 fighters were using it as barracks.

Headquarters in The Cave. As we walked down this hallway, I swear that they were playing the Lord of the Rings soundtrack as background music.

Weapons storage in The Cave.

The Tunnel in The Cave.

After touring The Cave, and emerging into the air through The Tunnel, we arrived at a vantage point that should have allowed us to see Israel, some 80km (50 miles) south.

The flags of Hizbollah and Lebanon. Notice that they are flying at equal height. This neatly symbolizes the source of the current political conflict in Lebanon.

Unfortunately, it was still too foggy and we could barely see anything from the overlook. But as I turned back from taking the above pictures, suddenly the fog cleared.

The valley below.

Well, cleared to a relative extent. It was still breathtaking.

Camouflaged bathrooms!

One of the most notable things about the museum was how modern, organized, efficient, and clean it was. After living in the Middle East for over two years, I was dumbfounded. Trash cans appeared every 20 meters on the trail. There were several places with bathrooms, including just above, way out at the overlook. Every so often there were water stations, with water being piped in from somewhere down the mountain (and complete with plastic cups). Benches were in place at all the appropriate stopping points.

This museum had some serious financial backing.

Water stations.

After the outlook, we climbed back up the hill through The Line of Fire. In the woods around us, model Hizbollah infantrymen crept through the underbrush.

Poised for combat.

At the top, we reached The Sphere of Resistance (or something like that).

More like the Casual Garden of Resistance.

To the side, there was a bunker, complete with machine gun.

Staring down the enemy.

We also learned a great deal about military tactics.

Awkward.

All around the garden were weapons on display. Haley commented that we, as Americans, were trained not to touch things in museums. The Lebanese have a different set of rules. Earlier, while in The Line of Fire, we watched a guy pick up a missile, wave it around for his friends, then toss it back on the ground.

It moves!

We were nearing the end of our Hizbollah adventure. All that was left was The Hill.

The Steps of The Hill.

In another beautifully manicured garden, we overlooked the rolling hills and valleys of Southern Lebanon. (Not pictured.)

At the top of The Hill.

And with that, we found our driver and drove back down the mountain, past stunningly beautiful landscapes, huge mansions perched on the edges of cliffs, bombed-out houses that a legal loophole prevents from being torn down, and ordinary people doing ordinary things.

I'll admit that I came expecting a propaganda explosion. And while it did not fail (The Abyss, seriously), I was genuinely impressed at the thought and effort behind the museum. No matter if you consider Hizbollah a terrorist organization or the legitimate Lebanese resistance, you have to admit that they know how to put on a nice show.

To sectarianism, we say revolution!

Demonstrators gather at the Dawra Roundabout in Northern Beirut.

Today, thousands of Lebanese took to the streets to protest a system of government that is uniquely Lebanese: sectarianism.

"No to confessionalism! The people are fed up!! We are not sheep. A neutral and secular people is the unique solution."

As per almost 70 years of unwritten political agreement -- and finally codified in the 1989 Ta'if Agreement that ended the 15-year Lebanese Civil War -- the President of Lebanon must be a Maronite Christian, the Prime Minister a Sunni Muslim, and the Speaker of the Parliament a Shi'a Muslim. The Parliament must be split equally between Christians and Muslims.

"We are Lebanese."

The system is based on the 1932 Lebanese census, which counted six Christians for every five Muslims. (Before the Ta'if Agreement, the Parliament was divided with six Christians for every five Muslims.) Current estimates put the Lebanese at 27% Sunni, 27% Shi'a, 21% Maronite Christian, 5% Druze, and 20% other Christian sects (including Greek Orthodox and Greek Catholic). However, no official census has been carried out since 1932, largely out of fear that officially recognising significant changes in population -- especially increases amongst the Shi'a -- would force a power re-distribution that would both unseat the Christians and reignite sectarian strife.

Considering that the Lebanese spent 15 years fighting a bloody civil war along ethnic and sectarian lines, these fears are not unfounded.

The Imam looked so amused every time I saw him.

The sign behind him reads: "The people want the fall of the sectarian system."

Lebanon has been fairly calm in the face of the revolutionary fever that is sweeping the rest of the Arab world. Unlike almost all of its neighbours, Lebanon possesses something of a democratic government -- though incompetent to the verge of failure -- and lacks a brutal strongman to overthrow. Current unrest tends to take the form of protests and counter-protests between the two rival political coalitions, March 8 and March 14 (cleverly named after the dates in 2005 on which each coalition staged massive demonstrations). A better explanation of their formation, the assassination of Former Prime Minister Rafik Hariri, the Syrian element, and the International Special Tribunal for Lebanon (STL) will have to wait for another post.

"Sectarianism is the graveyard of religions," and

"For the nation, secular democracy."

Nick, Haley, Arthur, and I joined thousands of others at the start of the protest in Dawra, a neighbourhood in north Beirut. We marched through several distinct neighbourhoods before ending up in front of the Electricite Liban headquarters, several kilometers away.

Military jeeps oversee the procession.

Demonstrators march past soldiers.

The police and army watched the demonstrations quietly from the sidelines, never interfering with the protesters in any way. Organizers with bullhorns and speakers shouted slogans ("The people want the regime to fall!", "To sectarianism, revolution! To corruption, revolution! To assassination, revolution!"), and demonstrators self-organized human chains to protect march leaders. The chants mirror the ones used across the Arab region, especially in Tunisia and Egypt, that call for regime change and revolution.

Human chains protect the beginning of the protest and chant leaders.

Demonstrators called to people watching from the balcony to come join the protests.

There were people from all walks of life.

Reuters puts the number of protesters at around 8,000 people (we were conservatively guessing 5,000 as we walked along the edges).

Reporters use fire trucks as convenient platforms to capture the crowds.

We left the protest when it arrived at Electricite Liban, but thousands remained, calling for a government that represents the voice of its people rather than their religious makeup.

The coming weeks will see the six year anniversary of the original March 8 and March 14 protests that formed the rival coalitions, coalitions whose makeup rests on religious division. Mass demonstrations have already been planned for March 14. We will see if the call for secular unity can possibly drown out old habits.